


Beneath the Uniform

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Protective Siblings, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Lance oversleeps and misses the beginning of a big press conference, but fortunately Veronica arrives in time to save him from the fallout.Unfortunately, in his haste to get dressed Lance accidentally reveals to Veronica not just a large scar but a brutal reminder of how involved he is in this war after trying to protect his family from that reality. And Veronica’s reaction? Well...
Relationships: Lance & Veronica (Voltron)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 379





	Beneath the Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** between seasons seven and eight  
>  **Warning notes:** none

Putting on a shirt should not be this difficult.

Lance glared at the uniform the Galaxy Garrison had sent over that he, along with all of Voltron, were supposed to wear to some large announcement the media would be covering regarding them returning to space and the various roles of Voltron, the Atlas and other Galaxy Garrison personnel. 

The jacket was nearly identical to the one he’d worn as a cadet, but for some reasons his hands felt abnormally clumsy as he tried to belt it according to regulation and the shoulders felt funny and the sleeves too stiff. 

Maybe it was the color?

He still didn’t know why they’d sent his in blue.

It sent a sharp pang of loss through his chest because he hadn’t been Blue’s Paladin in… in, well, a really long time (his sense of time was very skewed these days because three year wormhole what?) and why would they send him a blue uniform when he was the pilot of the Red Lion?

A quick text around the team revealed that Hunk and Pidge were in their respective Lion colors, Keith for some reason had red, Shiro had black (even though he was the captain of the Atlas now and probably should be in his own themed outfit) and Allura had pink. 

Lance continued to survey the jacket on the small cot-like bed in the bedroom he shared with Rachel in the Garrison-issued house for his family, thinking.

The reason clicked a moment later.

Their armor.

All of the uniforms were in their Paladin armor colors. Perhaps a poor choice by the Garrison design team since he could only imagine that confusion with the media since they were supposed to pose by their Lions (and where was Shiro going, exactly? That was going to be awkward) but…

But at least it made sense.

Although somehow the blue color here was painful compared to the armor. The armor was a fond memory. The jacket…

It was only a reminder of what he’d lost. 

And it’s not that he and Red didn’t get along, even if she had been prickly and hard to work with to start (he constantly feeling her disappointment and anger that he wasn’t Keith) but they had a pretty good working relationship now, he thought. 

But his connection with Blue had been beyond special. He’d _connected_ with her, she knew things he’d never told anyone else and her gentle purrs and rumbles in the back of his mind had soothed him in a way that was somehow even more comforting than one of Hunk’s hugs. 

But the universe had called and they both had had to answer and dwelling on what had been was not going to help anyone.

Neither was standing around shirtless when he was supposed to report to the press conference in thirty minutes. 

Lance sighed and reached again for the jacket, too stiff after a couple weeks of t-shirts and castoffs from his family as none of his clothes had survived both space and his family’s journey to the Garrison, and held it in front of him. 

At least he looked good in blue.

His lips quirked up. He looked good in _any_ color. 

He was just debating if maybe he should see if anyone had an undershirt he could borrow — Marco _had_ to have a clean one somewhere, right? Maybe that would help with the stiffness — when there was a flurry of stomps sounding on the staircase leading to the bedrooms and Lance had barely turned around when the door to the room burst open, a common occurrence with his family as privacy was nearly non-existent from growing up in such small quarters. 

“Lance!” Veronica near bellowed his name and he winced at the volume, holding the dress jacket protectively in front of him, as an angry Veronica was a dangerous Veronica.

His sister looked as sharp as ever in her Garrison dress uniform, a small patch added to the shoulder indicating she was with the Atlas and surging her upwards in rank from first officer to lieutenant, the ensemble completed by the narrowed set to her eyes that looked even more intimidating behind glasses. 

“Um, hey, Veronica,” Lance raised a hand in a half-wave.

Her glare did not lessen. “Do you know what time it is?”

“About—”

“The press conference started an hour ago!”

The words percolated as Veronica stood there, arms on her hips, clearly waiting for Lance’s response.

Lance blinked.

He blinked again.

“What?” he croaked. He shook his head. “No, that’s—”

“It got moved to ten,” Veronica interrupted him. “You told me this morning you knew.”

Lance vaguely recalled Veronica popping into the room at some ungodly hour and he’d mumbled out a half-asleep _“sí, yo sé,”_ to get her to go away and rolled back over until Rachel had woken him up later with the threat if he didn’t get in the shower she wasn’t leaving it for at least a half hour.

“Um… so…”

Veronica let out a sigh he knew well — both resignation and exasperated fondness — as she shook her head. “You’re lucky, Lancito. The Atlas ran so long they called for a break and you’ve got…” she checked her phone, “fourteen minutes now to get your butt in gear thanks to your dear sister running across campus to get you.”

“The best sister,” Lance grinned, nearly shaking with relief that he hadn’t messed anything up and no one was going to be angry with him. “You are my favorite, you know that?”

Veronica rolled her eyes even as she smiled. “I’ve never heard that before.”

Lance stuck his tongue out. “Ha ha.”

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Veronica waved a hand at him and Lance gave a sharp salute, turning around, the Esposito family signal of ‘privacy please,’ “We’ll need at least—”

She broke off with a sharp inhale.

Lance’s stomach dropped out.

He’d forgotten.

How had he forgotten?

“Lance,” Veronica’s voice was a shaky waver. “Lance, _qué es…_?”

He’d never heard her sound like that, his always unflappable big sister. 

He whirled back around as though that could make the scar and her memory of it go away. 

She was staring at him with horror.

“It’s, it’s nothing,” and _Dios,_ that was not convincing at all, and he swallowed thickly, trying again. “It’s—”

“ _That_ is not _nothing_ ,” Veronica snapped, anger coming and going in a breath as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. “ _Dios,_ Lance. What… what _happened?”_

What happened?

What happened was that he’d been the idiot who had gotten caught up in an explosion because he hadn’t gotten clear from the detonators in time, pinned down by sentry fire and stupidly thinking he could manage on his own.

Well, he hadn’t.

The wound hadn’t actually been terrible, at least not what it could have been. He hadn’t gone unconscious for starters, which was a blessing and curse. He’d dragged himself back to Blue and she had taken control, bringing him safely back to the castle.

And it was there he’d made a second stupid decision.

He’d hidden his injury.

He just…

He couldn’t go in a cryo-pod. 

Even around the burning pain he’d felt so _cold_ as he remembered what had happened not even two weeks ago, as the pod had trapped him and it had been so dark and cold and small and he’d screamed for help and no one had heard him and he’d thought…

He’d thought he was going to die. 

He’d shivered, the action only making his back hurt worse, but it had solidified his decision. 

No pod.

He could handle this himself.

He had to because if anyone found out he knew he’d have to go into the pod and he _couldn’t._

So he’d painstakingly slowly gotten his melted and burnt underarmor off inside the cockpit to reveal the wound; a giant patch that ran from his right hip all across his back until it hit the lip of the heavier backplate that while singed hadn’t damaged the flesh beneath.

Lance had always been flexible so even though it had hurt he’d managed to apply a burn salve from the emergency kit aboard the Blue Lion and then awkwardly bandaged it. The entire time Blue had rumbled concern and fear, nudging him to please please get help but Lance’s fear of the pods was greater than the pain.

He’d be fine.

He’d begged her to please, not tell anyone and she had reluctantly agreed. 

It would be their secret. 

Lance had managed for not even a day though, every footfall sending fire rocketing up his back and to his terror he developed a fever which meant…

Which meant infection.

Everyone had thought though he’d just taken ill and Lance had taken that excuse, that bedrest and quiet as he frantically tried to figure out what to do because if it came down to the pod and his life…

He knew what he’d have to do.

He’d ended up, half-coherent between pain and fever, confessing to Coran when he’d come to bring him some special family recipe soup, pleading for him not to tell the others, please don’t put him in a pod, please, please, he was scared but he was more scared of the pod and _please, please_ he didn’t know what to do but he needed help.

Coran had consoled him, tenderly brushed back sweat-soaked bangs, and promised to help. 

No pod.

And he would not tell the others. Lance could, if he wanted to later, but Coran would keep this between them.

He’d cared for Lance then, treating the injury and burn and infection and it had taken time and some little white lies to keep Lance from overly physical training those next couple weeks that Lance still felt guilty about but they hadn’t hurt anyone, not really, and he’d gotten better.

But it had scarred.

Badly.

A giant dark-reddish brown patch over the majority of his lower back that was bumpy in some places and smooth in others and rather hideous to look at.

It hurt more to know the lies behind it, the sick feeling that curled in his stomach that he’d betrayed the team’s trust by not telling them, that he had been wrong. He’d ended up telling them, Coran gently supporting him, and while it had earned him disappointed looks from Shiro and Allura and tears on Hunk’s end and anger on Keith and Pidge’s… he’d felt better. 

But arriving back on Earth he’d made sure to keep it covered up because his family… they didn’t like to hear about the war, about his part in it. He was their Lancito, their baby brother, and to know what he’d done? What he’d seen? What had happened to him?

No.

He couldn’t do that to them.

So he kept quiet about the worst things, focusing on the cool alien cultures and the people they’d met and talking about the Lions and flying. They knew, ultimately, that he did fight, that he was on the front lines but… but they didn’t ask and Lance didn’t tell. 

He’d definitely hidden the scar, the only real one he’d gotten up in space as he’d promised he’d tell the others if he got hurt again and the one time it had been really bad (not counting the whole Allura restarting his heart after he’d died bit) he’d been unconscious and woken up in Hunk’s arms in a cryosuit but with none of the panic since he hadn’t known it had happened until it was over, because if his family saw it they would then know how _dangerous_ it had been, how in danger he had been, and…

And now Veronica…

His gaze darted up where Veronica was looking at him, horror and pain and _knowing_ in her expression.

“Lance,” she whispered, taking a slow step into the room. 

Lance took one backwards. 

“It’s old,” he said, as though that made it better, as though time could heal the scars left behind by wounds. “And, and it doesn’t hurt and I promise. I’m okay, _estoy bien, lo prometo.”_

Lance could count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Veronica actually cry.

This was apparently going to make it so he had to use two.

“Veronica,” her name was barely a breath. “Please, I’m okay, it’s okay, it’s—”

She closed the few feet of space between them in two quick steps and Lance nearly stumbled backwards as she threw her arms around him with a low sob.

Lance remained stunned for a second before his own arms rose and he squeezed Veronica back just as tight, the jacket falling into a crumpled heap on the floor.

“I knew it,” she whispered, breath tickling his ear. “I… I knew it wasn’t… that you’d… _Dios,_ Lance, you…” Her grip tightened. “You could have _died.”_

Lance had nothing to say to that. It was true, so many times over.

It had been.

He knew better than to bring that up right now, maybe not ever. 

One of her hands drifted lower, brushing against the top of the scar, bumpy and too smooth and _wrong_ and he felt her shudder in his arms.

“How?” 

He swallowed.

He owed her honesty now. 

“An explosion.”

“An explosion,” she repeated, breathlessly. “You were in an explosion.”

He swallowed again. “Actually, I’ve… I’ve been in… in a lot of explosions. And… and other things.”

“Other things,” she parroted with a choked laugh. “ _Other things.”_

“ _Lo siento,”_ Lance whispered. 

It was all he could offer for the pain he’d put them all through, that he was putting them through, and it would never be enough.

“No,” Veronica said sharply, and Lance stiffened. “No, Lance. No apologies. You… you got hurt _helping_ people. For protecting others. That’s what…” he felt her swallow. “That’s what heroes do, Lancito. Don’t _ever_ apologize for that.”

Lance’s eyes stung.

Veronica, she…

She _understood._

She wasn’t mad. Scared, yes. But not mad. 

“ _Gracias,”_ he choked out, pressing his face into her shoulder and knowing he was ruining her jacket but she only hugged him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

The moments ticked by and he felt Veronica shift and he pulled back, going to rub at his eyes and Veronica set about smoothing down her uniform and pointedly not saying anything about the tearstains and rumples Lance had left behind.

“Veronica?” he asked quietly and she met his gaze, same red-rimmed ocean blue. “Please don’t tell Mamá.”

Veronica knowing was one thing. She was in the military too, was also going into space to join the universal fight. 

But the rest of their family...

Veronica let out a wet snort, startling him. “¿ _Estás loco_ ? Mamá doesn’t know even _half_ of what I’ve been involved in.” She sobered then. “Part of that’s because of confidentiality. But the other part… the other part would scare her, Lance. Scare the family. They know things are not all black and white but… but no matter how old we get we will _always_ be Mamá’s children. And I can’t put her through that. I can’t put any of them through that. But,” her hand landed on his bare shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, “I also know how dangerous it is to keep it locked inside and to myself.” Her eyes bore into his, a shared pain, a shared responsibility reflected in them. “Do… do you understand?”

Lance’s breath caught at what Veronica was implying.

She was giving him her trust… 

And she was asking for his.

He gave a slow nod. “I… I do.”

“Good,” her lips pulled into a soft smile. “Then hurry up and get dressed, or I’m going to tell everyone the reason we’re both late now was because you couldn’t stop preening in front of the mirror.”

Lance knew he should stick his tongue out, make some snarky comment, but all he could manage was a matching soft smile that reflected the fact everything felt… felt _right_. “ _Gracias,_ Veronica.”

“ _De nada,_ Lancito,” she murmured. 

The door closed with a soft click behind her.

Lance remained still for a moment.

Then he bent down and picked up the jacket.

He was finally ready to get dressed.

And this time around…

It fit perfectly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Request fic of Lance + scar + Veronica finding out :) If you enjoyed the fic it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments ♥ Thank you.
> 
> And psst! If you like my works, like Langst, and would like to help help dogs and cats with the amazing charity **The Anti Cruelty Society,** preorders for my zine, "A Collection of Langst Volume Three" are open with proceeds benefiting said amazing charity. You can **[find details on my Tumblr here.](https://icymakesazine.tumblr.com/post/629514167732387840/preorders-are-open-click-here-to-visit-the)**


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